


The Object

by Laqueus



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: F/M, I don't know what else to tag this as, Mutual Masturbation, aside from 1000 apologies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9297908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laqueus/pseuds/Laqueus
Summary: Sissel finds an unusual object.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am so, _so_ sorry.

It’s by pure coincidence that Sissel finds the strange object.

He’d been making his way into Lynne’s room through his usual route; a simple and well-travelled path, the rhythm as familiar as a favourite song: plant-to-painting-a hop through the wall to the coathanger in the wardrobe-to-wardrobe door handle, and there you have it. That was the normal route at any rate, but on this day Sissel found himself suddenly coming up short, the coathangers gone, the handle too far out of his reach, and so caught up in the rhythm and momentum of his travel, he had instead shot upwards into an unfamiliar core.

’ _Odd,_ ’ Sissel thought to himself. He must have passed this particular core hundreds of times, but never really needed to hop into it before now. Heck, he hadn't even noticed it for that matter.

It was just sort of… there, sitting tucked away in a little box at the top of Lynne’s wardrobe.

He’d seen many things, from sinking submarines, to sweet potatoes being swapped with statues, but he’d never quite seen anything like _this_ before. It was a bizarre little object, cylindrical, rounded at one end with an odd little base at the other. The base had several small buttons on it, and the majority of the object was coloured an almost offensive shade of hot pink. It almost reminded him of… what, exactly? The answer lay at the end of a mysterious path that he’d never travelled down before, one marked with all sorts of warning signs and urges, branching off from his mind. Possessing the object, he could feel a tiny cluster of machinery inside, as well as a battery compartment holding a couple of mostly-full batteries. Whatever this thing was, it could be _manipulated_.

Curiosity killed the - well, you know how that saying goes, so with a click, Sissel tricked the object, setting the engine going.

’ _Ah!_ ’ The little device startled to life with a loud hum, immediately rattling around the small box it was in, and surprising Sissel as it did so.

“Sissel?!" Lynne’s voice rang out from the other room, automatically speaking aloud. "What’s happening?”

_Of course._

In his exploration of the device, he'd had almost forgotten that as long as they were in the same radius, his thoughts had a direct line to Lynne’s head. With another trick Sissel stopped the device.

' _I found a core in a strange object. I was just seeing what it did._ '

“Strange object?” Lynne’s voice held a questioning note. After all this time there were still objects that merited some form of explanation for the ghost. Perhaps this was another such case? “What’s it like?”

' _Small,_ ” said Sissel. ' _In a little box. It’s got buttons and is a really strange shade of pin-_ '

“ _WHAT._ ” In the next second there was a hurried rumble of feet; Lynne launching herself from the sofa (startling a sleeping Missile in the process) and into her bedroom, her face a mortified shade of pink as she gesticulated wildly at the wardrobe. “Get out of there! Don’t you know better than to snoop through a lady’s belongings?!”

' _Well, it’s hard to know what constitutes a lady’s belongings when I don’t even know what this thing is!_'

“Arrrg, just get out! Get out get out getoutgetoutgetout!”

With a couple of hops, Sissel was back in the plant in the other room, announcing the fact. It was met with a harried " _Good_ “ from Lynne.

An embarrassed silence _bloomed_ in the air, creeping and spreading throughout the flat like food colouring in water, laced with a tinge of mild flustered aggravation. Lynne remained in the bedroom, a curious and very human attempt at privacy, considering that the flat’s other occupant could see through walls.

Now _this_ was new, Sissel had to admit, as he sat in the plant’s core, settling and spreading through its leaves like a soft mantle. Such an extreme reaction to such a strange, small, object. But now that he thought about it, the thing did seem to have an aura of privacy surrounding it: hidden away, tucked away in a box in the top of the wardrobe, in Lynne’s own bedroom. Hardly like the TV on display in the main room of her house, really.

If Lynne heard his musings (a certain thing, considering how close the two were), she chose not to comment. She emerged, a silent, flushed figure, quietly and methodically gathering her things, moving too swiftly for Sissel to be able to hop into her badge as normal, before swooping out of the door and heading off to work despite there being an hour and three-quarters until her shift. Sissel was left with that same awkward silence for company, Missile soon settling back down to sleep.

If l had a body, he would have shrugged, or done some approximation of it. Whatever that thing in the box was, it was evidentially private - that much had been made clear. Far be it from him to stick his non-existent nose in further than he had already. That thought lingering in his mind, he traced a path through various objects from plant to phone, and shot away to the police station.

\---

_She ends up spending the extra time sitting alone in a café; her untouched cup of coffee slowly sending its heat spiralling upwards. It’s not the normal café Lynne visits, the one close to the station with a steady clientele of police officers in it at any given time, no, if anything this café is a bit out of the way. Right now that’s just what she wants. She’s going to have to leave early if she wants to make it to work on time._

_The embarrassment of earlier still wriggles and writhes away, stinging at the back of her mind. It's an uncomfortable mixture of old and new - old being the event itself, new being hindsight chipping in and painting a version involving how she should have acted. But Lynne is a detective, has turned her detective’s eye on the memory, and like an inexperienced petty thief withering under an officer’s gaze, so too is the memory losing its bite. It bolsters her resolve._

_Why did she act like that? She's gleefully leaped into worse situations, yes, but why did Sissel finding her vibrator provoke such a shock? I mean, yeah, it’s private, but it’s not as if they’re strangers, not like bringing someone you fancy home only for them to find a pair of underwear down the side of the sofa. Hell, she and he have gotten as intimate as a detective and ghost with no proper corporeal form can get! (Which, ah, limits the options to things like ‘hugging a cushion whilst Sissel is possessing it’, or activity in the Ghost World, which is rather… incorporeal. Nothing like trying to kiss and having your face slip straight through your partner’s.) And besides, how was he supposed to know, when his worldview was so different?_

_There was a confusing knot of an explanation, all jumbled up, ducking over and under itself in different ways; and in the midst of it an idea revealed itself. The longer Lynne thought on it, the more convinced she became of this idea, and the better she felt. Yeah! It’d been a bit of a hiccup, but just wait until she and Sissel smoothed things out and got home._

_She took a sip of her coffee, and gagged. It’d gone cold._

\---

Sissel finds Lynne later, during a quiet, empty moment. She’s sitting at her desk, brow crinkled in thought as she scans a piece of paperwork, the words a cryptic jumble to him. He’s not entirely sure what to say, so he settles for hopping into his usual spot - the core in her (toy) badge. There’s a wadge of silence as she chews the end of her pen, before scribbling something down.

’ _Sissel,_ ’ she thinks, and _of course_ she’s noticed him there. Living with a ghost is a lot like living with a pet (and Lynne has experience with both). After a while you learn to unconsciously pick up on tiny signals here and there: a distant scrape in another room, a hint of movement there, and object tilting in a way that it normally shouldn’t. While it might seem like nothing to anybody else, to the experienced it might as well be a giant, flashing, neon sign yelling 'HEY!! SISSEL IS HERE!’ or 'HEY!!! MISSILE ATE TOO MUCH CHICKEN AND HE’S TRYING TO GET UNDER THE BED TO BE SICK!’

’ _Look, sorry about e-_ ’

’ _It’s a vibrator._ ’ Lynne’s thought comes through, as steady as water.

’ _?_ ' You can practically hear the question mark hanging in the air.

’ _The thing you found earlier. It’s a vibrator._ ’

’ _Oh,_ ’ thinks Sissel to Lynne, and then privately to himself (although there’s nothing 'private’ about it, as they both know she can still hear him), ’ _I still have no idea what that is._ ’

There’s a pause, the sound of pen scratching against paper as the only noise. To an onlooker, no one would even know there was a discussion going on. Lynne looks up from her work thoughtfully, and to said same onlooker, it would simply look like she was cogitating over her work.

’ _Sissel,_ ’ and now there was a new note in Lynne’s thoughts, giving Sissel the impression that the conversation was taking a new track. ’ _You know how we… can’t really do some of the things that normal couples do, right?_ ’

’ _Since when have we qualified as a 'normal couple’?_ ’

’ _Hey! You know what I mean!_ ’

’ _Right, right…_ ’ Lynne didn’t have to be able to see Sissel to know that if they were chatting in the Ghost World, such a statement would’ve been accompanied by that loose-limbed half-shrug of his.

’ _I was just thinking, since you found my vibrator and since you don’t know how it works, how about we have a little demonstration, tonight?_ ’ There was a certain mischievous glint in Lynne’s face, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

She’d gone on to give a proper explanation of course, outlining what it actually was and where it’d actually be going, and Sissel had listened attentively, the odd comment dropping through here and there, and by the time the explanation was finished, he found himself agreeing to Lynne’s proposal.

\---

Time found them later in Lynne’s room, Missile safely out on a walk with Kamila, the apartment to themselves. Lynne had considered lighting some candles (“For the mood!”) but they’d eventually decided against it for various valid reasons (’ _I really don’t want to have to prevent you dying via house fire._ ’). Still, the curtains are drawn, the lighting dim (but not too dim: if there’s going to be a demonstration then it helps be able to actually see what’s going on! At least, that was Lynne’s excuse for having to use her bedside lamp, which kept the room reasonably bright.) From his seat in a core in one of Lynne’s pillows (“Yeah, that seems appropriate! Good job, Sissel!”), Sissel watches as Lynne opens the wardrobe, reaching up on tippy-toe to ease the little box out. For a moment it’s a lovely, supple movement of a view of her from behind, (bootless feet pressing into the carpet, arms reaching up). A view which stirs a strange mix of emotions in Sissel’s non-existent gut.

An exclamation of success and Lynne whips around, box in her hands; rattling as she does so.

’ _Are you sure this much ceremony is needed?_ ’ Sissel intones dryly.

“Of course! We’ve gotta make do with what we’ve got after all.” A bright flash of a smile passes over her face.

And then in a single movement the box has been tossed aside, and there in the not-so-dim light of Lynne’s bedroom is the vibrator; she’s holding it aloft like a sword.

It’s an even more offensive pink in proper lighting, a pink that simultaneously tells you that This Is SEXY and demands that you have A Good Time and tries to layer it with a flirtatious mantle of mystery. It just ends up coming off as tacky.

Lynne plonks herself down on her bed, the thought _Wait, I could’ve done that in a sexy manner_ races through the air, and then she shrugs it off with _Well, I’m on the bed now!_

’ _Indeed you are,_ ’ thinks Sissel, an odd flush of fondness suddenly blooming in him.

Lynne holds the vibrator out to the pillow, an odd sight in any other context.

“Well, hop on in!” She pauses, worry briefly creasing her face. “That is, if you wanna.”

In response Sissel darts into the vibrator and tricks it twice, making the toy briefly buzz to life in Lynne’s hand. She laughs, half-startled, and Sissel can feel her grip on the toy loosen for a moment due to it. Her hand is a warm curl around him and he feels that same whirl of emotions churning in his gut. Maybe it never left, only quietly receding into the background for a moment, to resurface here.

“So!” says Lynne, and launches into a quick run-through of the various buttons. Thankfully her vibrator is a bog-standard one with a few different speed settings, and not much else. As she explains, she clicks the toy through the speed settings, Sissel getting a feel for each one, feeling the little piece of machinery move and rumble inside its silicone casing.

“I figured it was easier just to let you sit in here whilst I ran through it, you know, get a real hands-on feel for it!” she finishes, before quickly adding “And don’t say that you don’t have hands!”

’ _I wouldn’t dream of it._ ’ Experimentally, Sissel runs through the settings one by one, the low hum of the machinery increasing to a fever pitch before switching back off. ’ _Right. I think I’ve got it. Whenever you’re ready._ ’

Lynne’s smile freezes on her face for a moment, before relaxing back into a more normal one.

’ _Lynne…?_ ’ Sissel ventures.

“I’m fine! I’m fine,” she says, before continuing on in a quieter voice. “I just can’t believe we’re finally doing this.” The next moment her volume’s back up. “Should be fun!”

’ _Or an experience, at any rate._ ’

“Ah, I’ve, ah, just gotta get ready.” The tip of her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth, and before Sissel can properly process what’s happening, she pokes the tip of the vibrator into her mouth in an odd sort-of half kiss. Startled, Sissel almost sets the vibrator going there and then, the sheer sensation of Lynne’s mouth a sudden surprise; wet, soft, and warm. Silently, Sissel urges himself to pull himself together - after all, if he’s almost losing it because it’s a little in her mouth, then there’s gonna be trouble later on. Judging by Lynne’s expression, it seems that she’s not entirely sure why she did that either.

’ _You okay in there?_ ' she thinks.

’ _I-I'm fine, just a bit surprised,_ ' is Sissel’s response.

Removing the vibrator from her mouth, Lynne sets it down on the bed for a moment, the warmth of her hand receding. With a quick shimmy, she’s out of her tights. Then, with one hand she unzips her dress, her hand slipping past the fabric, past the bra underneath to paw at her breast. Meanwhile, her other hand travels downwards, hiking up her dress, sliding into her pants where it begins a slow, stroking motion.

Sissel can only watch, metaphorically dry-mouthed. The feeling is churning all through him now, and he feels bizarrely fragile, like he’s stretch too thin in different directions. An involuntary sound slips out.

’ _Ahh…_ ’

Lynne cracks an eye open, a small smirk on her face. “I heard that.”

It’s all Sissel can do to muster up a shaky response, and finds himself thinking that her face is flushing in a pleasant way.

At that thought, Lynne lets out a little cry, her face flushing further, her hand moving a little more desperately.

“I-I’m about ready for you now,” she stammers, and oh, the way her voice sounds-!

Removing her hand from her bra, she reaches for Sissel; her hand now much warmer than before.

It’s all rather sudden - a chain of movements that bizarrely makes Sissel think of his normal travel method of hopping from core to core: the bed-Lynne’s hand-a swooping motion through the air-and suddenly he's _there_ , the tip gently resting at her… Sissel finds his train of thought wobbling, gently crashing off the tracks.

“Whenever you’re ready - but, ah, not too fast at first,” Lynne instructs.

With a little click and a whir, Sissel sets the vibrator going on its lowest speed setting. Either he’s ready for it or had it on much too high last time, because it hums to life much more softly. There’s a hiss from Lynne as she slowly begins to work her vibrator around the entrance; from Sissel’s perspective it’s was a wash of entirely new sensations that he can’t quite put word to, perhaps doesn’t have the mind to put the word to right now. Slowly, gently, Lynne begins to slip the vibrator in and out - just a little at first, gradually going a little deeper each time. Sissel shudders at the sensation of her walls around him and accidentally kicks the vibrator up a notch. Dimly he wonders if this is what it’s like to have a body all the time, open to sensation, every touch a new thing to be marvelled over.

“Good thinking,” Lynne half-mumbles, voice laced with concentration.

She holds him in a loose-wristed grip, slowly building up a steady rhythm that Sissel can get behind, in, out, in, out. Truth be told it’s almost a little overwhelming, but he’s never backed down from a challenge before, and isn’t about to abandon a lady in need! Experimentally he kicks the vibrator up another couple of notches, Lynne jerks in response.

' _Too high?_ ' his thought rings out.

“N-nah, it’s fine. You just surprised me.”

They continue that way for a little while, and it’s a gradual thing but Lynne’s strokes slowly become faster, less refined, dipping in and out of the rhythm she’d so carefully built up. The faster he goes, the more the strange feeling builds up in Sissel, building towards something - he’s not sure what; all he knows is that it’s making his non-existent head spin.

Faster and faster, until suddenly several things happen at once: the thought ’ _Wait! I forgot to tell him about-_ ’ rings out and is promptly cut off by Lynne shuddering, the walls suddenly constricting around Sissel, clamping down on him. He yelps at the sudden mass of sensation, the pressure building inside him, and there’s a dim, teetering sort of feeling like something’s just about to spiral out of control.

As Lynne relaxes around him, Sissel finds himself no longer able to control the pressure inside him; something’s gonna give any moment.

’ _Lynne, you’ve gotta get me out - **now.** _’ There’s an unusual note of sharpness in his thoughts, perhaps that is why she reacts so quickly, despite being wrapped in the afterglow. Or perhaps it’s her famed cat-like reflexes, the same ones that once prevented her from being crushed by a giant chicken. Sissel finds himself drawn out, but it’s no use, he’s still in her hand! ’ _Drop it!_ ’__

Lynne’s hand opens, and Sissel hits the carpet with a soft thud.

Not a moment too soon.

The pressure releases, a stinging surge washes through Sissel, giving him a vague feeling like he’s been electrified, and the vibrator shorts out with a sharp crackle and a pop, leaving the smell of ozone lingering in the air. It sits there on the carpet, smoking gently for a moment.

“Phew,” Lynne laughs softly, still spent and not quite up to her usual level. “That was a close one, eh?"

With a blast of sound, the fire alarm goes off.

\---

_Well._ That certainly had been something, Sissel has to admit as he sits in a dustbin lid. A short distance away, Lynne is communicating something to a fireman; there’s a great deal of arm-waving going on as she gestures broadly. She’s dressed a little oddly, no tights on under her boots, a crumpled jumper and coat thrown on haphazardly - if someone didn’t know better they’d say she’d either gotten dressed in the dark or in a hurry. Neighbours mill around, occasionally forming into tiny clusters to swap a few lines of conversation between themselves before drifting apart again. Their expressions are mild, but it’s a strained sort of mild - carefully bottling up any complaints or annoyance they may have, to be gently swapped behind closed doors. Who would’ve known that this apartment complex was one of the ones that automatically summons the fire brigade when the alarm goes off?

A stern-faced fireman nods something at Lynne with a small gesture to the building, and she nods vigourosly.

' _Any harder and her head’ll probably come off,_ ’ thinks Sissel to himself.

Lynne’s head turns slightly, as if trying to spot where that remark came from, before rapidly snapping her focus back to the fireman.

’ _Oops._ ’

There’s a final confluence between the two, before the fireman announces in a loud voice that it’s all clear and everyone has the go-ahead to go back inside. The little gathering splinters: the fireman is turning away, the rest of the firefighters piling back into the engine, the neighbours trooping off back to their homes with grateful murmurs, and Lynne is scanning the area for a sign of Sissel.

’ _I’m here,_ ’ he calls. ’ _In the dustbin lid._ ’  
Lynne trots over, boots clicking against the tarmac, Sissel giving the lid a little rattle to further highlight his position. Her brow creases as she spies him.

“The dustbin lid? Really?”

’ _Hey, ghosts aren’t picky about where we sit. Besides, I didn’t have time to hop into your badge when you dashed out. Again,_ ’ he adds.

“Well, I was in a rush!”

She automatically casts about for something that Sissel might hop into, something that can easily and innocuously be carried inside. There’s a pen into her coat pocket, and he hops into that, says as much. She sighs, feet clicking up the stairs, runs a hand through her dishevelled hair.

’ _So how did you get our friends in the wailing fire engine to leave?_ ’

“I told 'em I’d lit a candle and it smoked a lot, setting off the alarm!”

’ _You don’t own any candles though._ ’  
“Yeah, but they don’t know that.” She smiles conspiratorially.

In the next moment they’re back in the safety of her apartment, Lynne retrieving the slightly blackened vibrator from where it’d been kicked under the bed. There’s a scorch mark on the floor where it’d initially fallen. She flops down on the sofa, shedding her coat in the process; Sissel making a slightly frantic hop into a cushion before it becomes out of his reach. Lynne inspects the toy, looking it over this way and that.

“Y'know, despite what happened at the end, I’d say for a first time things went pretty well!” Her smile fades for a moment. “Still, it’s a shame that you fried it in the process.”

Sissel makes the cushion rustle slightly - it’s the closest thing he can do to an awkward fidget. Absentmindedly, Lynne picks him up with one hand and hugs him to her chest, still holding the ex-vibrator with the other.

’ _Sorry about that. It’s, er, never happened before._ ’

Lynne snorts out a laugh, her chest briefly juddering against him. “I’ll bet! You know what this means though, don’t you?”

’ _Do enlighten me._ ’

“We’ll simply have to get a new one! This one was getting a bit worn out anyway, plus it’s a bit plain.” Her eyes light up dangerously. “Ooh, we can pick out a new one together! Find one that we both like.” Lynne’s smile could rival a 160-watt bulb.

’ _I suppose we’ll just have to see what we can find._ ’

Their conversation is interrupted by a knock at the door; opening it reveals Kamila holding the lead of an excited Missile. “So, did anything interesting happen this evening?” asks Kamila, as she steps inside.

Lynne and Sissel share a look (well, attempt to, Lynne forgets that Sissel's in the cushion she's holding, and looks at another one altogether).

“Not at all!”

**Author's Note:**

> I initially posted this on my tumblr account a couple of months ago ~~now last year~~ , and now it's up here too for your ~~traumatisation~~ ~~judgement~~ enjoyment.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> ~~DON’T JUDGE ME no I totally understand if you do~~  
> 


End file.
